All Mine
by SondiDondi
Summary: What if James never died, but was simply comatose? What if Dumbledore knew it? Now, at the tender age of four, can little Harry learn to adjust to life outside the home of his abbusive uncle?
1. Chapter 1

**All Mine**

**Chapter 1: How it Starts…**

Remus Lupin gave the password to the stone gargoyle with a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Ever since he left school all those years ago, he had only ever been inside the magnificent office of Albus Dumbledore to receive dire news. The last time this happened, three years ago, he learned of the deaths/ betrayals of his closest friends. And now…

"If you are finished standing in front of my door, Mr. Lupin, I'm afraid the subject at hand is of dire importance."

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…_ was the only thought running through his mind. They crossed to the grand desk and took their respective seats. Dumbledore leaned back, exhaled deeply, and finally seemed to look his age.

"I'm afraid that I have made a terrible mistake, and I need your help." Remus could only nod. "It seems that I announced a false statement three years ago this November. A false statement which involves you, I'm afraid. Recent evidence has come to light that proves a Mr. Sirius Black innocent of all charges."

Nothing. That was all that seemed to be running through Remus's mind at the completion of this admission- nothing at all. _How could Sirius be innocent? I mean… He was sentenced almost three years ago…_

He voiced this thought. "You see, Mr. Lupin- Remus- I held a rather large secret from the world. The night the Potter's were attacked, James fell, and then Lily, and then poor baby Harry was cursed. Of course, you already know all of this… what you didn't already know was that when James fell, he didn't exactly die."

The nothingness was replaced by a dull buzzing sensation in his ears. "He was in a coma, Remus, and labeled as _death imminent_. The healers told me there was no chance of recovery, and so I asked that he simply be pronounced dead. Yesterday evening, he woke up and informed me that they switched secret keepers at the last minute to mister Pettigrew. The ministry has been alerted and is now searching for him. Sirius has been freed, and his innocence is being announced in the _Evening Prophet_ as we speak."

"But James… James is… alive? But… I mean…" Dumbledore cut him off prematurely. "Yes, and he is currently making himself presentable in my chambers. Now, I would very much appreciate it if the two of you would go to Surrey and collect young Harry. It is my assumption that the sooner he is around you two and James, the better."

Remus could only nod.

Remus and Sirius drove down the expressway in Sirius's old four door Sedan, both not sure what to say to the other. Every time one tried to say something, things would get awkward, and the subject, whatever it happened to be, would drop. It just felt weird.

"What was the address, again?" asked Sirius from behind the wheel. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging." Silence again. 10 minutes later, they were in front of the Dursley residence. "Why are we driving, again?"

Remus sighed. "Because, Harry'll never have portkeyed or apparated before. He's about to have the shock of his life- we can at least make him as comfortable as possible."

Silence again. "Here it is." The two parked the old BMW, got out, and walked to the door. Sirius was about to ring the bell, but paused when he heard shouting. While the words were indistinguishable, the resounding _smack_ that followed seemed to linger in the air for ages. Remus pushed open the door without knocking, and the two rushed through the narrow entrance hall into the living room. These actions went completely unnoticed by Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley.

"Are you deaf, boy? I said GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" they looked between the large man and the small bundle of clothes he seemed to be kicking for only a moment- until they realized that the mop of black hair emerging from the pile actually belonged on top of the head of a small child.

Sirius pulled Vernon off, while Remus whipped out his wand and pointed it threateningly at the remainder of the household. His voice was shaking with rage. "Another move and I swear…" instead of finishing his sentence, Remus diverted his attention to the reason they were there in the first place. Harry wasn't moving.

It was Sirius who continued. "We're taking Harry away, and he's never ever coming back. However, I can guarantee you that the two of us and our _little friend_ will be back very soon. By the way… your oaf of a son seems to have shit his pants. You may want to take care of that." He gingerly picked up his godson, and walked out the door.

Harry had been sleeping on the backseat of the old car for thirty minutes with his head in Sirius's lap.

"I think he needs a healer," spoke Remus from the driver's seat. His eyes kept darting in between the road and the rear-view mirror.

"When we get back to the hallow, we'll fire call Pomfrey." Not another word was spoken until they pulled up in front of Potter Manor.

"This is going to take an extensive healing period," explained the anal-compulsive healer. However, as she was explaining the condition of her tiny ward to these two, she seemed somehow warm and comforting.

Remus asked the question that was on the tips of both of their tongues. "What's wrong with him?"

She sighed. "Several of his ribs are either broken or bruised. He has numerous facial fractures- many seem to be quite old. He has about 79 stitches in his face alone. His startling behavior when he awoke- he had nothing short of a nervous breakdown when he realized he was naked with someone in the room- caused me to speculate on is mental health. Years of neglect and abuse warrants me to diagnose him as mentally and emotionally unstable. His testicles are bruised and scared, leading me to believe he has been repeatedly fondled/ molested. There are abrasions on his buttocks, bruises on his hips, and tearing of the rectum and the anus. In other words, a very large man with a great amount of access to Harry has been raping him for quite some time. Your best bet would probably be the uncle. This list just barely scratches the surface."

Remus had sat down and was staring at the floor; Sirius had been pacing the parlor the entire time. The later looked up the staircase- the shortest path to his godson. He wanted to see him. "When can I see him?"

She speculated. "If you go in there, make sure he is fully dressed. If he even thinks that you somehow saw him naked, the resulting mental damage could be devastating. If you are in the room when he wakes up, do not be touching him. Do not push him to talk, let him set the pace. He does, however, need to discuss all of this- preferably with a specialist. I'll leave you with a few recommendations. The medication he will need is on the bedside table. There are directions for each- make sure that he bathes before you use the internal salves. It would probably be easiest to put him under the influence of dreamless sleep before that particular application. He'll be extremely shy, so don't let that surprise you.

"And before I forget- he also suffers from night terrors, or chronic nightmares. Dreamless sleep will not ease their pain, and they will more than likely continue at least until his late teens. They may cease for one night, if only because his subconscious feels completely safe.

"I already dressed him in a pair of pajamas that were in the ward. I suggest you get him some new clothes very soon. Make sure he feels loved and safe at all times. Emotional outbursts are to be expected. I think that's about all. I'll be back in two weeks to check on his stitches. If any complications arise, you know where to find me."

And with that, she walked to the fireplace and flooed to Hogwarts.

"So, what now?" asked a lost- looking Remus. "I mean, I guess you should just stay with him, right? I'll talk to James, and tomorrow, we'll get him some new clothes." He also flooed away, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts. It was almost an hour before he could summon up enough courage to turn twards the staircase.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Sighes, Sighes, and More Sighes**

James was shocked. One of his best friends had just delivered the worst news he had ever received- his only child,_ Lily's baby boy_, was hurt. And he may very well never recover.

"What... um… what does he look like now?"

Remus told him then that he hadn't seen him yet. Silence.

"Do you know when I can see him?"

Remus sighed- it had been a long day. It had taken several hours to explain to James exactly why Harry hadn't come to see him yet. It was around three in the morning, and the full moon was approaching, and he just wanted to sleep.

"When you get out, you can see him, but you can't touch him. Something about needing a large amount of personal space. Maybe Sirius can talk him into coming here. Maybe he won't even get out of his bed. I just don't know at this point."

"What about my parents? They came by this morning, wanting to see their grandson."

Another sigh. His soft bed in his London flat sounded very tempting right now. "James- I don't know. I need to sleep tonight, and so do you. I'm supposed to get Harry some things tomorrow, then I have to go to Dumbledore. Good night."

Sirius had been sitting by his godson's bed for hours. The tiny face was covered in deep cuts, sewn back together with thick black medical thread. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if he were in pain. Sometimes the miniature lips would mumble incoherently, sometimes the small boy they were attached to would use them to scream bloody murder. Sometimes he would cry a little, sometimes he would thrash around in his sheets. Sometimes he was still and silent. Throughout all of this, he never opened his eyes. Until just now.

The tiny little head rose off the pillow, soon followed by a tiny set of shoulders, and then a tiny torso. His eyes were bright green- Lily's eyes. For a few moments he appeared groggy, and then confused- and then the panic set in.

He looked around from the scarlet-painted walls to the white sealing, to the oak furniture, to the oak floor, to the overlarge bed he had been sleeping in. His tiny bandaged hands ran delicately across the white silk linens he was wrapped into, the few unbroken bare fingertips allowing themselves to quickly, gently caress the fine luxurious fabric. They move from the linens to the large fluffy pillows, still warm from his long slumber. Then he looked down at himself, and his physical in-place search of his surroundings became more frantic. The hands began to pat, first his chest, them his sides, then his stomach and then they met with the thick white comforter. He lifted it up slowly, almost hesitantly, and looked at his lower body. He allowed a sigh of relief to escape.

His antics reminded Sirius very much of the morning after the quiddich cup in sixth year when James had woken up with a hangover and no recollection of how he ended up naked in the dorms next to an equally naked, rather beautiful Slytherin girl.

Harry's wide eyes fell on the dark, strange form of his godfather sitting on a white cushion at the bay window, and he backed into the oak headboard.

"Hi," Sirius managed to utter pathetically. "I'm Sirius. You're Harry, right?" the younger of the two nodded in the affirmative. "I figured as much. I knew your parents. You look just like your daddy, you know… except for your eyes. You have your mum's eyes."

Harry looked away, unable to stop the blush that was creeping across his nose and cheeks. He didn't like people to look at him at all, let alone with the scrutiny and obvious pity that this stranger held in his bright, gray eyes.

There was a long, awkward pause, during which the only sound to be heard was the late night crickets chirping on the lawn below them. Silence never seemed so loud to either of them.

A minute or two had passed, but to Sirius it seemed an eternity before he first heard the voice of his best friends' s child. "You really knew them?" croaked the timid, hoarse, child-like high pitched voice.

Sirius smiled. He had got Harry to talk- this had to be a good sign.

"Yeah, they were great. Lily- your mum- made the second best homemade cookies in the whole wide world. Your Grammy makes the best. She was a real nice lady, very pretty, and she loved you very much. And your dad- he's very funny. Always making everyone laugh. Actually, he's the reason I needed to talk to you." Pause. "Do you remember when they died?"

Harry shrugged. "They said it was a car crash." He whispered. Although he still wouldn't look up, it was obvious that he was entranced with whatever this man had to say.

Sirius was barely controlling his rage. _A car crash? How was he supposed to explain to a four-year-old that Lily was murdered and James never died?_ He stood from his window seat, walked over to the bedside, and crouched down in an effort to make eye contact. Harry scooted a good four feet away from him.

"Harry… um… your parents didn't die in a car crash. A while ago, there was this really bad, really mean man, and he liked to hurt people and the people they loved if they wouldn't help him hurt and be mean. Well, almost three years ago, he came to your house. Your mummy and daddy didn't want to be mean like him, so he was going to try to hurt the one person they loved the most- you.that's how you got that scar on your forehead. Do you get all of that, or do I need to explain?" Harry shrugged and nodded. He was soaking all of this in like a sponge, and Sirius, at this wonderfully close-ish distance, noticed the silent thick tears and the trembling from head to foot. This whole _Mummy and Daddy_ thing seemed to be a very sensitive subject. He wondered if Harry had ever talked about it. He had already started, and Harry didn't seem to be cracking up, so there was no real reason not to persue the subject. He pushed on.

"Well… um… do you know what a coma is?" Harry shook his head. "It's where you hurt our head, And then you go to sleep for a very long time. You sometimes wake up, but it takes a very long time. You can't do it all by herself even though you want to, and nobody can just make you get up. Do you understand what I'm trying to say"

Harry shrugged. "Harry, this is what happened to your daddy. He woke up about two days ago, and he told me to come and get you. He never wanted you to live with your aunt and uncle, and he got very mad when he found out that's where you were at all this time. No, he wasn't mad at you," he added on quickly when he saw the frightened look on Harry's face. He shook his head and closed his eyes. The shaking grew more violent.

"Harry, he asked me to bring you here. This is your parents house- your house. This is your bedroom." Harry's eyes snapped open and the shaking stopped. He nodded back and forth, laid back down, got under the covers, and rolled over. Sirius took this as a sign to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Three is a Magic Number…**

It had been three long days since Sirius had dropped the bomb on Harry- three days since Harry had last been beaten by his uncle, three days since James had been informed of his son's condition. It had been three days since Sirius had finally cracked after leaving Harry's room and broke down crying. It had been three days since Harry had so much as moved.

Three days of Harry not eating or drinking, and Sirius was freaking out. Three days of Harry's bone-chilling screams and waking up in cold sweats, not responding to any attempts of outward comport, and Sirius was twitching at the drop of a hat. Three days of Harry wetting the bed, and Sirius's nostrils were beginning to burn with the musty stench.

And so now he was in the kitchen with Remus, discussing what they were supposed to do.

"Well, we tried everything else… I guess we just have to go up there and… well…" Remus drifted off at the end of his sentence.

"_Well_ what? Scare him into bathing?"

Remus shook his head. "No… well, not exactly. We need to confront him with the facts and get him to talk about it. Not only does he probably not understand what's going on, but he's probably scared half to death."

_Maybe they'll just forget_ thought Harry. _If they forget about me, they'll leave me alone._ That's why he wasn't getting up. If they left him alone, they couldn't hurt him.

He wouldn't tough the food The Liar had left by the bed. That's what he called that _serious_ guy. There was no way what he had been told was the truth. Grown-ups never tell the truth. He wouldn't touch the food because he might get in trouble. He remembered just last month, in august, when he had been working hard all day on an empty stomach. He walked into the kitchen, and when no one was looking, he snatched a cheese sandwich form a large stack on the table. "Mummy- there's only six here!" Dudley had whined. Aunt Petunia had turned to Harry and hissed "But I made seven…" That was all he remembered until he woke up in a hospital room the next morning. The pretty nurse said he fell off the monkey bars at school. He didn't even go to school. He never ate food that he wasn't sure was for him ever again.

Knock. Knock. Knock k-knock knock knock. Someone was at the door, _and they wanted to come inside._ "Harry?" This was a new voice… one that sounded like he could trust who it belonged to. He couldn't meet this man.

The footsteps grew closer, and it sounded like there were two people walking around in the room. He held his breath, and involuntarily shuddered when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. There was a bruise there, and it hurt to touch. The hand started to gently shake him, and he let out a tiny moan of pain. The hand quickly pulled away, and he heard his name called again. "Harry," This was the same voice, but it sounded different. It wasn't mad… and it wasn't mean. Harry knew there was something there… but he had never heard it being aimed at him before. It was concern.

"Harry, you're hurt. You need your medicine. I'm going to pull down the blanket, okay?"

Harry's grip on the underside of the blanket tightened, keeping him sheltered from the voice he had to restrain himself from reaching out to.

The hands stopped pulling on the blanket, and he sighed. "Harry, you need to help. I can help you. I won't hurt you."

Harry couldn't stop himself this time. "You promise?" His voice was raw and cracking and it hurt to talk. He could almost feel the voice smile when it answered "Yes, Harry, I promise. I won't hurt you."

Remus gently pulled the blanket off the tiny broken body, and noted that Harry's eyes were shut tight and he was chewing on his lower lip.

"Good evening, Harry." The head turned slowly, and the eyes cracked open. He was curled up into a ball, and his wide eyes seemed to take everything in, paying extra attention to this new man's eyes. They were a warm golden color, and he had a feeling that he had seen them somewhere before.

"My name is Remus, and I think you've already met my friend, Sirius?" He jerked his head to the side, and Harry's eyes followed to the other side of the bed, where the liar stood. He seemed to shrink in the fluff of the bed, and lunged for the blanket. The liar, however, got to it first.

"Harry," it started, but the boy shot out of the bed, went through the nearest door, and locked it. It was a bathroom. He closed his eyes and slumped to the floor. He was breathing heavy, and he was getting mad. _He promised…He promised…He won't be like **them**_ _…He won't be like **them**…_ He continued this mantra until his breathing was under control. This was too much. He felt like he couldn't breath, like he had to move around.

He got up, walked to the stepstool in front of a sink, and climbed up. He bent over the sink, turned the tap to cold, and splashed the water on his face. It stung, and he pulled back. He looked in the mirror, and his lip quivered. He couldn't recognize himself. His face was covered in deep gouges, sewed back together with black medical thread. He looked different, _ugly. Just like a freak._

The tears began to fall at last.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm soooooooooooooooooooo freakin sorry for leaving you all hangin for a while. My computer had a bit of a brain fart. I really do love all of your reviews, but it's hard to answer them all through (not that I'm complaining!), so if you actually want to get in touch with me, drop a line at .

**Chapter 4: Promises, Promises, Promises**

Remus paused at the door before casting an alohamora and pushing it open. His eyes scanned the room, but he heard Harry before he saw him. There were strangled sniffles coming from the corner, behind the cabinet.

"Harry?" He called, and the sounds stopped immediately. Looking to the source of the shallow breathing the replaced them, he noticed a small foot. "Harry, it's me, Remus. I just want to help you, okay? Remember… I promised I wouldn't hurt you. I don't break promises."

Harry was curled up in the corner, and was refusing to look this stranger in the eye.

"Promises don't change anything."

"Mine do." He gave in, and green met gold. Harry was hypnotized by the swirls in the older mans eyes, and just sat there, allowing tears to well up in his own again.

"What're you gonna do?"

Remus breathed out a deep sigh._ Progress._ "Well," he started, speaking slowly, "First, we need to get you cleaned up. Then, I'll help you with your medicine. You have some stuff you need to take, and other lotions and thing that are supposed to be… well… rubbed into wherever it hurts."

At the last sentence, Harry locked his knees together tightly. _His do… his do…he won't hurt me…_

Harry was sitting on top of the counter, fully clothed and face washed, as Remus rubbed salve after salve into the wounds on his face. The silence was uncomfortable, and Harry was getting shifty. Sirius had cleaned up Harry's room, and had left to see James.

"How did you know my name?" Harry finally asked. He turned his head toward Remus, noticed he was staring intensely back, and looked away, that same innocent blush creeping across his nose and cheeks.

"Didn't Sirius tell you the story?" receiving no response, he continued. "The two of us were best friends with your father back in school. We came to get you after we found out where you were, and your dad told us to bring you here, to make you feel better. So-"

Harry pulled back and looked at him as if he had just sprouted another head.

"Harry, what's-" He was cut short by Harry's screams.

"SHUT UP!" and then, as if suddenly realizing what he had just done, fiercely wiped back the tears, looked away, jumped of the counter, and tried to limp away as fast as he could. Remus reached forward and firmly-but-gently wrapped his fingers around the tiny wrist. Harry whipped around, and stared, wide-eyed at his concealed wrist.

"Harry, look at me." Harry looked up, eyes shut tight, and was muttering "You promised, you promised, you promised," like a mantra.

"Yes, I did promise, and I still haven't broken that promise, have I? Look, I'm not hurting you- well, maybe it might hurt a little, but in a different way. I'm just trying to help you. From now on, that's all anyone you'll meet is going to do- try to help. Me, Sirius, Dumbledore-you'll meet him later, you'll love his hair. It's crazy. Mema and Pepa- they're your grandparents- your aunt Rachel, and especially your dad."

Harry was trying and failing to pull away at the end, and then it hit Remus.

"Harry, you _do_ know what's going on, right? Of course you do, I mean, it's already been explained to you. I mean- do you believe it? All this stuff about your dad?"

Harry still wasn't looking at him. "Harry- I think it's time you met your dad. He's still in the hospital, but he wants to see you, and well… don't you think it would be good to get back outside?"

Harry whimpered his response, and shrugged. Remus let go of his hand, stuffed Harry's medicine into a bag, and led him out the door and down a flight of stairs. Outside, they clambered into the old car (Harry in the back, as far away from Remus as possible).

They drove for what seemed hours, stopping for burgers (which Harry did not touch) and listening to the soft radio (songs that Harry pretended to not enjoy).

After parking and making their way through the hidden entrance (Remus's hand was on Harry's shoulder, so the later's eyes were shut), Remus went to talk to the receptionist. Harry wasn't listening, and with all of his stitches and his pronounced limp, no one gave him a second glance. He just looked like another patient.

He wasn't paying attention in the lift, concentrating on the clean shoelaces on his new trainers. They fit like a glove and were extremely comfortable, but they just didn't feel right. In Harry's eyes, they didn't look right, either. Too clean.

_Bing._ They had reached their destination, and Harry looked up when the doors whooshed open. He was standing in a sterile hallway, long and wide with crying families and their friends left to comfort them sitting on benches and couches and chairs.

He froze- he didn't want to be one of them. What if he didn't like him? What if he didn't even exist, and Sirius and Remus were just trying to hurt him? What if…

"Harry, we're here."

A/N: Sorry! Cliffhanger… couldn't resist. Chapter five's all ready to post, so I'm just waiting for tons and tons of reviews! Oh, and I'm in the market for a good couple of betas. If your interested, drop me a line at or leave me a review. Remember, betas see the chapters before anyone else! The coast is freakin freezing! On the plus side, though, I have the whole of next week off to write, and I promise this is the last short one! Well, I got to go get ready. I have a date for the midnight premier of Goblet of Fire! Wish me luck… this calls for the padded bra!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Reality Strikes Back**

"James?" Remus called through the door. "James, are you awake?" a mass of shaggy black hair attached to an amused-looking face immerged through the growing gap between the door and its frame.

"Remus! You're just in time for the party! Sirius is already here, and… wait a minute, who's watching Harry?"

"Um… that's kinda why I'm here. James, you have a visitor." The head twisted around to face Harry, who was squirming uncomfortably, once again concentrating on his laces.

"Oh… um, yeah… come in, come in!" he opened the door all the way and moved, allowing them entrance.

"Sorry about the mess, I would have cleaned up a little if I knew you were coming." He said as he kicked a pair of underwear under the bed.

Harry was pretending to not hear him, hiding his face by looking down at his feet, arms hugging himself protectively. He just stood in the corner, leaning against the wall (he was both very tired and stressed).

Remus, Sirius and James were sitting around the room, waiting for a conversation to begin. Nobody said anything, and after several more minutes of this awkward silence, Harry limped quickly from his place in the corner across to the bathroom, and the lock clicked loudly.

James gave Remus a funny look and also moved to the bathroom door. He reached for the handle, but appeared to change his mind as he put his hands shoulder height against the wood and pressed his ear between them.

His eyes shifted to a cross between remorse and fury. "He's crying." He did not, however need to say this, because the loud sobs must be carrying all the way through the hallways. James looked as if he wanted nothing more than to sink through the door and cry with his son.

"This is real, isn't it?"

A/N: I know, I know, but don't worry, this isn't the whole chapter. I just posted enough to make up for the cliffie last night. Oh holy shit! 20 reviews in 20 hours! And not one beta offer!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Family Business**

There comes a time in every man's life when he realizes he can't do everything alone. At this time, a few tears are usually shed in mourning for the tragic loss of his dignity. At this time, he can do nothing but feel sorry for himself, the comfort of his friends seemingly non-existing. At this time, there is only one person to call in: his big sister.

Rachel Potter marched proudly through the halls of St. Mungoes Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, her eyes fierce and her ebony ringlets bouncing just below her shoulder blades. Her black Stiletto leather boots raised her to a respectable five feet and five inches in height. Her hips swayed gently in her designer jeans, turning several heads as she moved. She reached her little brother's hospital room and pushed the door open without knocking.

James looked up from his place on the floor, back against the door, unaware that his son was mimicking this action on the other side.

"He stopped crying- I think he might have cried himself to sleep."

He got up, allowing her access to the door. She walked over, opened it, and sure enough, the tiny sleeping form of her nephew tumbled into the room.

"James, when do you get out of here? You look fine to me."

James sighed. "Tomorrow morning. Right now, I'm just under observation. Can't wait to be home."

"I know. So, I'll take him back, make sure he's okay, feed him up, and all that jazz. You'll see him tomorrow, okay? And my bags are already in the spare bedroom, so I'm all set to be with you guys as long as you need."

He nodded, she reached down and scooped Harry into her arms, and left without another word.

Harry woke with a strong feeling of dejavu. The linens felt heavenly against his tender skin, the bedroom was filled with the pinkish hue of the sunset. The only difference was the person blocking the view out of one of the large windows.

It wasn't the liar. It wasn't even Remus. He didn't know this person, but he could tell that she was _definitely_ a woman.

She had long curly hair that shined in the light from the setting sun. The glare from the window prevented him from seeing her face, but that hair… that hair was beautiful. Like an angel.

"Hey, sweet pea. You hungry? I made you grilled cheese." Just as she said that, the smell reached his nostrils. He turned his head with difficulty (It was still very sore from falling asleep on a bathroom floor) and saw the promised sandwich on his bedside table.

He stared at it a bit more, as if waiting for an invitation to eat for the first time in days.

"Go on, eat up. You need to eat. And drink your milk. Growing boys are supposed to have at least 1 glass of milk a day."

Never one to disobey, Harry complied with the demand. Not that he was complaining, of course. He had never had his pathetic cheese sandwiches toasted, but this was definitely his new favorite chore. He never had milk in a glass before either. This was his new favorite food, and the angel was officially his new best friend.

"I'm Rachel, by the way. I hope you like that sandwich, because that's pretty much the only meal I can cook without burning."

She moved closer, and Harry's assumption had been confirmed. _She **is** an angel!_ He thought. That hair that he loved so much was blacker than the darkest night, and her eyes were a blue without a name. She was fare skinned but not pale, and her eye brows arched delicately. She had full red lips that parted to reveal perfect white teeth. Rachel was… well… staring at him.

"Is something wrong? You stopped eating."

Harry looked down at his mostly eaten sandwich and quickly stuffed it in his mouth. She caught him looking at her… and now she thought he was weird. But with her, it just seemed different. Uncle Vernon made everything hurt, but Aunt Petunia only made his feelings hurt. Maybe girls were different. Maybe they were just…

Rachel was staring again. And she was holding another sandwich.

"I'll trade you this," she held up the sandwich, but there was something different about the smell- this time there was ham, too. "If you tell me something about you."

Harry nodded. This could be bad- but it could be worse. She could want something else… he shuddered. He didn't like to think about that.

"I'm Harry," Rachel handed him a quarter of the creation. He practically swallowed it whole, and continued "And I… I'm… I'm… um…"

He looked to her for help. "And…" she prompted, "What's your favorite food?"

He allowed a shy smile and a blush to escape as he pointed to the sandwich. She returned it, and handed him another quarter of the sandwich.

"What do you like to do?"

He broke eye contact, focusing instead on his covered legs. There was _one_ thing he found pleasure in, but it was stupid. He didn't want the sandwich _that_ bad… he decided to just stop talking, but before he could stop himself, he was whispering "I can make up stories."

She smiled, and handed him the rest of the sandwich. This feeling was new… like he wasn't so hungry anymore. It felt so _good_ to not be so hungry. He hoped it was always like this when Rachel was here.

She tilted her head, and as the ringlets shifted, a terrible thought occurred to Harry. _What if Rachel leaves? Who will make grilled ham and cheese sandwiches?_ Him, probably. But it hurt too much to work right now… Remus seemed nice. Surely he wouldn't send Harry back until he felt better?

"I'll tell you what," That voice filled his head with music. "If we get you all cleaned up and medicated and fed and all that great stuff, will you walk around the house with me? I've always been scared to walk alone when I'm in a big house I don't live in."

She was funny… she actually seemed to want to be with him. He slowly nodded his head, and she helped ease her nephew into his feet. She led him into the bathroom and began to help him undress when he violently jerked away from her grasp. She's not as different as he thought.

"Ohh… okay. I'm sorry. Tell you what. The water's already started, and the bubbles are going. I'll turn around and let you get undress, then you can get in the water. I swear I won't be able to see through those bubbles, okay? On your mark… get set… go!" She turned around and obeyed his orders.

The taps now turned off, Harry had suds up to his ears. As Rachel ran her shampoo-covered hands through his wet hair, one thought ran through the young boy's head: _I can get used to this._

A/N: Shit, I'm sorry! Don't kill me! I swear this was not only the longest time you'll have to wait for an update, but also the LAST SHORT CHAPTER!


	7. A note from a deeply apologetic author

I'm afraid I owe you all a very sincere apology. I always hate it when chapters of beloved stories cease to continue, and am often angered when no explanation is given. I had originally started this story with high hopes for rave reviews and many hit sequels.

I find myself now settling for one of two. All of you have been amazing- many responses, all positive- and I regret to inform you that this particular story will not be continued.

Almost two years ago, I was in a car crash. My lap top (with the next 5 long chapters perfected and waiting to be posted) was destroyed, and I was seriously injured. While recuperating, I spent the duration of my out-time writing other works, several of which I'm hoping (but not promising) to have completed and posted in the upcoming weeks.

Lots of love from me to all of you, who stuck with my story until I had greater genius knocked (literally) into me.

Let me know if you're interested... and as I recall, some of my great fanfic friends even braved the waters of direct e-mail to uphold conversations. Keep them comming- I do so appreciate it, and love sharing ideas for new (and old) stories.


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